


Findings: Bandit (draft, do not distribute)

by whatshisface



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29647140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatshisface/pseuds/whatshisface
Summary: discover [ dih-skuhv-er ]verb1. to find (something or someone) unexpectedly2. to notice or realizeSix recommends that Dominic have regular evaluations with someone to try and help with the... "awareness". Gustave volunteers, thinking it won't go anywhere. It somehow ends with Doc inviting Bandit to meet his immediate family. At least the company is good.
Relationships: Dominic "Bandit" Brunsmeier/Gustave "Doc" Kateb
Kudos: 12





	1. initial findings

**Author's Note:**

> some incredible self-indulgent fluff because I do not have money to commission people otherwise. a lot of headcanons on my part here as a warning, but otherwise going off what lore there has been in the universe. take it as you will or don't, I appreciate any time taken to read this. shoutout to Tori for humoring me and the encouragement to get this off the ground.

**present day**. 

The sun is out and the birds are loud. The air is warm but not uncomfortably thick, just enough to be noticed if one has nothing else to focus. Otherwise, it sinks in and leaves the face flushed. It’s not ideal, but it is preferable to the constant slew of rain that Algiers has had. It’s honestly his fault for accepting the dates suggested, but the beginning of spring seemed ideal when compared to the second half of the year. Better to be mildly uncomfortable now in the worst-case scenario, than miserable in the summer heat at its best. Besides, it gives Gustave a reason to dress down. No doubt it helps Dominic to feel comfortable, too. Even now, it’s only fair to consider how the other man is adjusting to things. Everyone in Rainbow travels but acclimating is always a new story, and for Gustave Kateb, coming home is always a bittersweet feeling. 

He is homesick in spite of the way his stomach turns at the idea of something as trivial as a future argument with his parents, of the guilt that lurks in the background at him taking such a comfort for granted. Now is not the time for that. This time is different. 

When he passes under the archway and into the courtyard of the café that his siblings decided on, he finds comfort in the fingers that tap at the side of his hand. It’s a warning before Dominic laces their fingers and lifts Gustave’s hand to kiss his knuckles. It helps enough that the doctor finds himself relaxing, glancing over to offer a smile. Dom is looking at him with such intensity reminds him of how much things have changed between them. All the while, it's hard not to be both nervous and excited.

(Although it might just be nausea.)

───────

**2 ½ years ago**.

Doc has an office ready at each base available to Rainbow. Typically, he heads there so he can catch up on missed work and get started on what needs to be done. The paperwork is usually done inbetween trips or whenever the time is there, if there isn’t something that ranks as a higher priority. Today he hopes to finish report based off his last job that involved a parasitic infestation on a water supply in South America. He has statements from dozens of citizens, victims and relatives alike, along with the handful of doctors he had been deployed with. Not Rainbow adjacent, but still necessary. Regardless of that, his door is kept open in case anyone stops by. Still, the morning is young, and surprises can still get the best of him. 

The knock on his doorframe stops him from sorting the papers and when he looks up, he’s almost taken back by the intensity with which Bandit is staring at him. Doc’s brow furrows for a moment before the silence is filled in but the former. 

“Doctor. If you’re busy, we do not have to do this—” A glance to the planner on the corner of his desk reminds him of the reason for the visit, and he reaches over to grab the mental evaluation done by Six— Harry. Doc waves a hand and motions for the older man to come inside. 

"Nonsense. You’re required to do this, and I agreed to it. Dominic, right?” He clears the rest of his desk. 

“That’s me, but this isn’t even your specialization. Why offer the help?” Despite that, Bandit comes in and grabs the back of the closest chair. He turns it to face away from the wall and settles into it, hands on his thighs. 

Doc gives a casual shrug in response he looks back down to what Harry provided. It’s detailed, starting from the initial evaluation from when it had been Aurelia calling the shots. There’s the first assessment, a second one from a year in, and then a few more afterward, the time inbetween each one ranging from months to years. The most recent notes from Harry’s last session with Bandit is the one that prompted him to seek Doc for feedback. Like a man already stretched too thin, he offered help knowing that he shouldn’t, thinking that Harry wouldn’t accept. 

Well. Shame on him for assuming. 

“It may not be, but I am still a doctor. Besides that, it may prove to be of more benefit to you, having someone who is directly involved with the work that we do.” Sliding the papers back into the folder, he sweeps out a hand to the space between them. “Regardless of whether you like this or not, we still need to try. Who knows, you may be surprised.” 

Bandit is staring at him with this intensity that Doc has seen before, but maybe it’s different with the fact that this is a co-worker rather than a patient or a potential threat. Maybe it’s different because Bandit is potentially all three wrapped in one. (Shame, Doctor.) 

“All right. So, how are we doing this?” Bandit seems to give in with the argument he’s given, leaning forward, forearms braced on his knees. Doc wills himself to relax instead of sitting straighter while he flips to a new page in his notebook. 

“Right, well—” 

The session is straightforward. There’s a questionnaire that Harry suggested, one meant to gauge temperament and things of that sort, progress, etc. Bandit answers without any catch, and Doc notes anything he notices out of a typical answer. (‘How are you feeling today’, ‘are you sleeping well’, ‘is there anything that you think is worth mentioning?’) Most of his notes are observations rather than direct quotes: body language, how long it takes to answer, how it’s answered and so on. If Bandit is annoyed by this mandatory activity, he doesn’t show it, but he also refuses to elaborate further on most points. He only answers as much as he is asked, and attempts to pry further draw answers that lead to steel walls. 

The first session ends quietly, with Bandit excusing himself when he feels there is nothing left to say. Doc agrees so that he can consider his notes, but not before he reminds Bandit of when he’s to come in again. If not next week, then the week after and if not the week after, then Doc will personally find Bandit to make sure that next time happens. 

“I intend to take this seriously, Dominic.” He stares holes into the back of Bandit’s head as the older man gets up and fixes the chair. 

At the doorway, Bandit glances over his shoulder and smiles, all saccharine. Doc can’t help the way he locks his jaw to fight off whatever reaction he has at the sight. No judgments. Not yet. 

“What makes you think that I’m not, doctor?” ( ** _Note: strong sarcasm but tolerable if not annoying._** )


	2. note: best served hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sessions have a rough start but that doesn't mean it'll keep that way, right?  
> posting this means I'll actually finish this one. that's the hope, anyway.

**2 years, 1 month ago**.

Some sessions go quick, some feel like pulling teeth, and some don’t happen at all. The brief ones are because of time, operations that happen last second, or simply because work that requires more attention than expected. When none of those reasons can answer for why a session ends so quickly, then it is because of Bandit. He’s more likely to derail things if Doc isn’t careful and even then, when he’s learned how to get them back on track, there’s another perspective to consider. ( ** _Note from Dr. Harishva Pandey: undercover involvement has left long-lasting effects. Is there a means of softening the impact?_** ) Doc had considered it prior to the first meeting, but it had only been an afterthought, a what-if that hadn’t been humored because he hadn’t seen it happen yet. Anticipating something is ideal, but when it can happen dozens of ways, it’s hard to imagine how it will happen. 

In this room however, the more they meet to sit across from each other, the more Doc finds his answers. It’s practically confirmed itself at this point, halfway through the session and it’s insufferable, if not downright insulting for how long it took Doc to catch on. It’s allowed Bandit to take control of the conversation and talk about habits that have been mentioned beforehand. It’s to buy time and keep distance. It’s what has kept the sessions stagnant, with no real progress. Right now, Bandit is talking about his time in R&D last week, which would be useful if he hadn’t already mentioned it earlier. 

“Stop that.” He speaks mid-answer but it’s enough time for Bandit to raise a brow in question. He can’t help the exasperation in his tone. Raising a hand from his notepad, Doc rubs at his brow before bringing the hand to his chin, exhaustion obvious as he settles. “You get nothing out of saying what you believe I want to hear. This is not a job, Dominic. You do not have to keep up an appearance, or play a part.” 

It’s almost like watching someone flip a switch. The light in Bandit’s eyes leaves and his brow furrows, but this is better, because that reaction is an active participation. He looks around the room, eyes focusing again. In that moment, Doc feels closer to who Bandit is than any other moment in the past few months. Hopefully, he’s right. 

“… I did not mean to do that, doctor.” It’s said slowly, as if Bandit is still trying to come out of the fog. Doc takes that at arm’s length while making a notation for it ( ** _Note: Instinct? Possible coping mechanic_** ). When he finishes, he glances up to see that same intensity from the first meeting, and it’s strange to think of how more familiar he with that than Bandit had given him a few moments ago. Doc waves a hand and sits straighter, realizing he’s on the defensive. 

“It’s fine. What if we take a break?” 

There isn’t an immediate answer as Bandit considers things, but then he nods. This is usually when Bandit decides to take the opportunity to leave, and he does start to get up, but today he stops, hands on the arms on his chair. Instead, he settles back and gestures. 

“That would be good. What if I ask some questions, now? For a change.” Doc thinks about it. It’s unusual that Bandit is so willing to stay at this point, and there is work that needs to be done, but it would be a lie to say that Doc is uninterested in this venue. Settling back in response, he gestures towards the other man, chuckling from the back of his throat. 

“I don’t see why not. What would you like to ask?” Bandit is quiet at first, thinking about how he wants to use this opportunity and eventually, he mirrors Doc and sits back, head tilted curiously. Hands folded, his tone is grave as he speaks. 

“What. Is your favorite color?” 

It’s absurd, and yet it works. The bark of laughter from Doc is genuine; it’s hard not to laugh at the situation, but this is better than anything they’ve been through until now. It almost feels like a breakthrough because it’s so different. So, he humors Bandit. 

“Purple.” The answer is easy, because Doc remembers lilacs and silks and fabrics, a grandmother with adorned in jewels that catch the sun at dawn and a blanket that kept a child warm at night. He thinks of wisdom, of royalty and dozens of other things, but that can be saved for another day. He will only answer as much as he’s asked. “And what about you?” 

“Brown.” Bandit speaks after a beat, eyes glancing elsewhere before settling back on Doc, as if he’s chosen the answer without reasoning. It isn’t a typical choice but like Doc, Bandit answers only as much as he’s asked. ( ** _Note: favorite color is brown. no further details._** ) He will not elaborate. Instead, another question. “How do you take your coffee?” 

This one takes more thought, even though Doc believes he knows his answer. On top of that, he wants to see if Bandit will mirror him this time. 

“To be honest, I’m used to drinking coffee however it’s available. I can’t remember when I had the time to prepare coffee for myself.” The smile Doc offers is cordial but restrained, almost bittersweet. Despite the delivery, he intends to draw no sympathy. 

Bandit seems interested in this train of thought if his body language indicates anything, by the way he leans in and lowers his chin. It’s hard to tell if this is an act. 

“Then tell me. And if you cannot remember, I’ll make coffee until you do.” To be honest, the offer is so far from expected that Doc must ground himself, looking from his notes then back to Bandit. First colors, and now this offer. His mouth opens as he tries to form a response, but he’s certain he looks more baffled than anything else. For that, Bandit keeps his gaze on Doc and explains further. “It will give me motivation to show up for these sessions. That, and I’m told I make decent coffee.” 

It is… unconventional, but it works. 

“What do we have to lose?”

───────

**1 year, 11 months ago**.

The sessions have gotten more consistent, though it’s hard to say if they’re improving. The first time Bandit shows up with a coffee, Doc admits his surprise before taking a sip and giving feedback. While it’s satisfactory, it’s not something he enjoys, and he knows that’s the answer that Bandit is looking for. 

So, Doc continues to save a few minutes in his routine when Bandit makes him coffee. Of course, their sessions don’t always happen due to being sent elsewhere, irregular schedules and so on, but when they are on the same base, coffee is always guaranteed for Doc. 

Today, when Doc takes a sip while Bandit speaks, he’s quick in his reaction. His nose scrunches and he pulls the mug away, clearing his throat. 

“Are you – taking sips from this mug before you bring it here?” 

Bandit is quiet at first, brow furrowing with confusion, but then he nods. 

“How else am I supposed to taste it?” 

Doc ducks his head, shoulders shaking at the absurdity of it all. Letting the silence sit, he deals a look of scrutiny to both Bandit and the mug before shaking his head. He takes another sip before telling Bandit that there’s too much sugar. ( ** _Note: At least he remembers details._** )

───────

**present day**.

“Did you sleep?” 

Dominic stops scanning the courtyard long enough to look over, meeting brown eyes. The tension in his shoulders drop barely and he scoffs despite the smile tugging at his lips. 

“Does it look bad?” He thought he had done enough. He had shaved his beard down to a more manageable length, made sure his hair was cut to a length that said he took care of himself, and even made sure to get some amount of sleep. Even an hour was better than what he’d been clocking in the past few weeks. It had always been about adjusting, about changing something to favor a better outcome. Was this case different? Yes and no. 

The difference in this was that he wanted to do this, rather than it was required of him. That, and leaving a good impression was better than adding to the strange one he had left the first time any of the Kateb siblings had learned about his existence and relationship with their eldest brother. 

(Cedrick had laughed at him when he called to talk about it. A bastard just like him. It had been good to hear his brother’s voice. They’d spoken of childhood pranks, of the time Dominic had almost missed Cedrick’s wedding, of the first meeting with his wife. Same day, different name.) 

Now, Gustave reaches out when he leans forward, hands cupping his face. Thumbs trace over Dominic’s cheeks and press in just enough to test the bags under his eyes. Dominic can’t help the laugh it gets out of him as he closes his eyes, head turning to kiss at a palm. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“We can leave early, if you’re tired—” Bringing his own hands up, Dominic squeezes both of Gustave’s hands and shifts to lace their fingers. He kisses Gustave on the jaw before pulling away to shake his head. 

“I think it’s because of the weather, more than anything. I’d rather meet your siblings than try to take a nap.” They came all this way, and this is the most casual wear he’s ever seen Doc in. Not to say that he doesn’t match, but he believes that the slip-ons look better on the other man. From the tunics to the shorts, it’s a loose fit, but it helps with the warmth creeping up on him. 

Gustave scoffs at that, shakes his head before he slides his hands out of Dominic’s so he can look around the area. In the meantime, Dominic rolls up his sleeves to the elbows before rubbing at a wrist. 

“You’re going to regret that, love.”

───────

**1 year, 5 months ago**.

People wake up at 4 in the morning. Most of the operators keep on their regular schedule, so even when nothing is happening, there is always something to do. A coffee pot that needs brewing in the shared kitchen, maintenance in the common areas for each branch, training on the grounds, or lab time in R&D. At 3:19 AM, Doc is burning both ends of the candle, struggling to finish an academic paper on genetic toxicology, based off a recent joint effort with the MDP. 

He should be sleeping, getting rest where he can but why do that when there’s so much to do? Reaching over for his cup, he scowls at the weight of it, or lack thereof. Getting up, he heads for the common area in search of an available coffee pot. 

He doesn’t expect anyone to be awake, let alone in the common area, yet there it is. The light is already on as is the TV, volume down for background noise more than anything. Lesion, Vigil and Jackal are seated at a table, playing some sort of card game. They all glance over to Doc’s arrival and greet him individual, Lesion more vocal than the other two. There’s a fourth chair pulled back and a hand is set face down, pointing to Bandit as the missing culprit. He’s leaning against the counter, emptying the rest of the coffeepot into his own mug, mid-pour when he notices Doc. 

Doc, who has walked over, increasingly disgruntled the longer he watches the rest of the coffee empty into Bandit’s mug. He stares, the words hard to come with how he’s pushing the boundaries of exhaustion. Bandit looks undisturbed, head slowly tilting towards Doc as he offers. 

“Coffee?” 

Doc doesn’t bother answering, he grabs the mug from Bandit’s hand and downs it. When the warmth sinks into his bones, so does the realization. Eyes wide, he fumbles for the words, offering the mug back to Bandit. Bandit takes it with a small nod, the circles under his eyes that much more noticeable. 

“- Thank you.” He can’t tell if the smile from Bandit is meant as a joke, but it’s too late to tell. His ears are starting to burn, and it seems too much to stay in the room (especially when there’s an audience). 

“Too much milk?” When he thinks about it, Doc licks the front of his teeth and hums in agreement, quick to change gears. Bandit is good at adapting, and the fact always rears its head in ways Doc doesn’t expect. At least this time, it’s not so much insulting as it can be. 

“Not enough, actually.” The nod seems decisive, and Bandit tilts his head towards the table as if to offer a spot in the game. Doc refrains with a shake of his head and moves to leave, quiet. “Good night, Dominic.” 

The three operators at the table stay quiet, spectators to the scene as Bandit returns to the table, picking up his hand of cards. 

“What was that about?” Lesion raises a brow as he draws from the deck. 

“That was exhaustion.” Jackal answers before asking Vigil if he has any threes. When he’s told to fish, he takes it in stride, glancing around the table. “Not insomnia.” 

There’s a whistle as Lesion shakes his head, moving to consider his hand. 

“Wasn’t that decaf?” Is the question that comes after a pause. Bandit shrugs, unrepentant.


	3. first (second) impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Kateb siblings reunite on their own terms, but mostly to size up their oldest brother's boyfriend.

**present day**.

“Gustave!” Immediately, arms envelop him in a tight hug and he’s pulled back again his sister, laughing at the suddenness of it all. Reaching up, he holds onto those arms and rocks with her for a moment, calming down. “About time! Do you know how long it’s been?” 

“I do- we got here first, you know.” He manages to pull her off before turning around, hands on the shoulders of Sadia Moussa, formerly Kateb. “It’s good to see you. How is the married life treating you?” 

“Well enough! What do you take me for?” She lightly smacks his sides with her knuckles, scoffing to add emphasis before moving back in to hug him properly. “Have you eaten? Raphael got lost, else we would have beaten you here!” 

Looking past her as he returns the embrace, he offers a smile to the other two trailing behind in Sadia’s wake, arm in arm. 

“Is that him?” A nod and Sadia immediately moves from her older brother to smooth out her tunic. She offers her hand and Dominic relaxes at that before meeting her with his own. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Sadia, it was at my wedding that I found out about it.” 

She can just image Gustave paling behind her, but she ends up smiling when she sees Dominic trying to fight a laugh. It’s hard not to ask a dozen questions at once – how they meet, if he has other siblings, what about the tattoo she sees underneath a sleeve. Luckily, he speaks before Sadia can try to sneak something in. 

“Dominic. He’s spoken of all three of you- good things, I promise.” He looks back to nod at Raphael and Imane, offering a smile. Sadia is practically glowing at this point. Shaking his hand, she gives a small tug before letting go, motioning to the café. 

“Let’s get a table then- you have to try the food here.”

───────

**1 year, 3 months ago**.

Today’s session is going nowhere. Doc is wound up from an earlier altercation with another operator who won’t be named, and Bandit is bothered by something that he won’t confess to. They’re two walls, unable to compartmentalize even though this is part of their job description. Bandit is the one who cracks first, reaching over to grab the top of Doc’s notepad. He refuses to falter when Doc’s grip tightens and he looks up with annoyance, like he’s been shaken away after just having fallen asleep. He gives the notepad a shake to test the grip and make an emphasis. 

“Close the office for today. You won’t be able to work like this.” The instinct is to be combative, to ask why Bandit thinks so, but Doc is self-aware enough to know where that idea leads. So, like he has been doing for nearly a year now, he humors Bandit. He keeps hold of the notepad, but his brow relaxes. 

“And then what, Dominic?” 

Bandit scoots forward in his seat then stands, letting go of the notepad to offer his hand. 

“We got to the garage and take a car into the next town over. Find a way to blow off steam.” Getting out of the base does sound good. It’s fresh air, a change of scenery and low risk for running into anyone who may drawer further ire from Doc. He considers it, then gives in by tossing his notepad on the desk. 

“I get to drive.” The negotiation cracks Bandit’s first smile for today, and he pulls his hand away before Doc can take it. It’s a done deal. 

After signing out a jeep, they drive around until the scenery changes. The buildings are friendlier and the streets are long. Finding a place to park, they start to walk around and it works for them. Somewhere in the heart of the main street, Doc finds himself feeling better, less focused on earlier events. 

“This was a good decision, have you done this before?” 

Bandit shakes his head, turning down a corner with Doc. The tension in both of their shoulders has loosened and it shows on their faces. Bandit can’t help but offer a smile when he notices the change, looking forward. 

“I thought about it. I’ve walked off base, but I haven’t gone this far. Always thought it might be better with someone else.” The answer is thoughtful, unlike what Doc had been expecting but it’s refreshing, which makes it better. 

Eventually, they find a small bakery and split a few homemade pastries, getting coffees. From there, they walk around for a few hours and share stories of home, of delicacies that warm even the worst chill. They stand out on a shore, watching the sun while the water flows around them, waves falling and rising to meet the shore. 

“If you’re ever in Algiers, there’s this stand, the woman there—” Doc goes on about incredible tastes, textures and feelings from food while Bandit indulges him, holding their drinks so that the former can gesture, exaggerating and more animated than either of them have seen in a few months. 

He can’t help the smile that comes to him; he doesn’t want to. 

“Maybe you can show me, one day.” For a moment Bandit believes he’s said something wrong based off what happens next. Doc slows to a stop, looks over as if the idea were something he hadn’t considered, but then he smiles back. 

“Now that, would be something.” The stories keep coming. They decide to return to base before the sun sets. Bandit offers him some lilacs when they get back in the jeep. 

“Purple, right?” 

Doc keeps them even though he thinks it’s a joke. They are his favorite color, after all.

───────

**present day**.

Gustave, Imane, Raphael, and Sadia. 

Imane is the second-born, but being the first girl in the Kateb family, the expectations are different (they always are). The last time all four had seen each other had been at Sadia's wedding last year, where things had nearly gotten messy. 

"Why my brother?" She's quick to the throat when she approaches Dominic, arms folded against her chest, fingers holding the end of her scarf. He's standing away from the others, beside a doorway with hands down, fingers drumming against his sides. He seems restless, like he’s ready to bolt at any moment. She’s seen that before, in Gustave the first time he came home. 

Twice is a coincidence, right? … Right. It’s difficult not to feel guilt, and in that moment, she feels closer to her brother in a way she hadn’t imagined. Luckily, Dominic somehow catches onto her discomfort and answers to keep her distracted. 

"He's a good man," is the answer she expects but it's not enough. So, she tilts her head towards him and raises a brow, waiting for him to notice and glance over to get the idea. Clearing his throat, he turns back to watching the scene. Sadia is accusing Gustave of something, while Raphael tries to keep inbetween them, that way the argument doesn't get physical. Gustave rubs at his brow before dragging the hand down his face so he can deal a look of disappointment for whatever was said. While in the middle of Imane's laugh, Dominic continues as she wanted. "And... He thinks the rest of me is better than the low points he's seen me at. Which is more about me than him, but. 

I always thought it was unnecessary. ... 'Superfluous?' That someone should listen to me and think that will be enough to help whatever it is that goes on in my head. But Gustave - I don't know what it is that makes me wants to talk to him more. Maybe it's the no bullshit attitude." Dom rubs at his neck and takes in a breath, lets it out slowly. He pauses and looks apologetic. "— Sorry for the language. Let me change my answer?" 

It’s enough for Imane, because she shakes her head and feels as if the tension is too much. Maybe she pressed too hard and he felt as if he should say something, or maybe that was his intention. Still, it's too much for such a casual meeting, so she reminds herself to ask Gustave later, and opts to change the subject. 

"No need. Here, I’ll ask an easier question. ... What's your favorite color?" What's startling is the laugh. It comes after a long pause and it's so sudden, but the most surprising thing is how genuine it sounds despite how it also sounds like that's the most absurd thing he's heard today. Before Imane can recover to deal him an incredulous look, he lifts a hand and waves it, head shaking. Not her. Not laughing at you. 

"—Brown." She can't help the dubious look at that, unimpressed. 

"That's strangely plain. Why?" 

"... They're the color of your brother's eyes." She swears that Dominic is blushing when he says this, and as cheesy as it sounds, it also feels genuine. (He’s thinking of warmth, of something that shines in the light and changes in the dark. He remembers quick glances in an office and stolen looks during downtime.) It’s her turn to laugh now. A hand up, she braces against his arm and ducks her head, shoulders shaking. Dominic stands firm to support her, hoping that it’s a good thing.


End file.
